


How Many Times?

by ConvictorKaruma



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:32:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvictorKaruma/pseuds/ConvictorKaruma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why did it always end up with her wanting to call home? Wasn't she an adult now? Surely she could do better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Many Times?

**Author's Note:**

> More headcanon stuff.

_5 6 3…_  
She slammed the phone back down on the receiver,  _no_ , she was not going to cave, even with her whole life crashing around her. What would they even say? “You got yourself into this mess.” “You’re not our problem anymore, Linda.” An assortment of other choice phrases that all boiled down the same:  _she was on her own now_.

How many times had she gotten to this point? Before, when she could still afford her cell phone, she could count at least 10 times within a one year span that she almost called them, each time held back by the same overwhelming weight. The heavy knowledge that they weren’t going to help her. She had been  _born_  a disappointment, and now she was just proving them right. Knowing them, that’s how they’d see it, too.

How long had it been since she last heard their voices? Well, her father’s voice, mami hadn’t wanted to answer the phone. She never got to tell mami she was freeing them of her financial burden. She was sure aba told her. They were probably ecstatic then.

 _Damn it._  Her eyes were burning now, hot tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She was supposed to be over this. They didn’t  _want_  her, they were  _happy_ , she should be fucking happy too, right? Of course she should.

Why did it always come down to calling aba and mami, anyway? Why did she still remember their number, assuming they hadn’t moved in the years since she got her medical license. She had other people she knew, right?

 _No, you burned those bridges, remember?_  Why was this so hard? How many times had she cried over people who couldn’t care less if she were to disappear tomorrow? How many times was she going to cry over them? Surely more than they would even think of her. She sunk to the ground, leaning against the glass of the phone booth, silently shedding tears over things that just couldn’t be changed.

Her mind replayed that last conversation in such vivid detail, she’d been so full of pride, anger, and adrenaline, they hadn’t even attended her graduation. She hardly thought as she pulled them up on her contacts, “Aba, is that you? I did it!…aba, I…I know you’ve spent so much on me. You don’t have to now…You don’t even have to acknowledge me as yours if you don’t want to. I—”

She was shaken from her thoughts by an angry man pounding on the glass wall, screaming at her. Right, other people had calls to make, and she…she really should go home, anyway. Maybe a shower would help wash away those thoughts. Hopefully.


End file.
